When Knight Falls
by Calliope'sApprentice
Summary: Sequel to Dark Knight's Legacy
1. Chapter 1

He stalked across the rooftops, following her as she moved through the crowd below, weaving her way through busy shoppers and uptight businesspeople. She was carrying a small envelope, one he knew had the words '_Le Sourire de Chat_' in black cursive on the back; but it's contents were still a mystery.

Turning into a small street, the girl sped up, the letter clutched to her chest. Stopping abruptly, she looked up to her right at the sign of a run-down café; two large alabaster statues of grinning milkmaids stood to either side of a fading green door. She knocked twice and leant forward, whispering something, before the window-pane to her right shuddered and slid open. Moving inside, she threw a glance over her shoulder and winced, the pane shutting behind her with a sweep.

Jumping down from where he stood, he approached the sliding door, tapping it once or twice. He decided the best way to go was round the back. He didn't count on there being a trigger pad, which he so happened to step on, letting a shot rip into the air.

* * *

><p>"<em>What<em> happened?" Nelya bellowed into her phone.

"Can we not discuss this now?" Came Blake's painful but exasperated reply.

"Then what in high heavens do you _want_ to talk about?" She was racing through the city streets, on her way to the cave.

"Just...something else…"

"Blake?" She said, "Blake!" The other end was quiet.

Cursing hard enough to make a sailor nervous, she floored the accelerator, turning down the window and pushing her detachable police siren onto the roof of her car.

* * *

><p>Half carrying, half dragging him out of the Batmobile, Nelya swore under her breath, "This is what you get when you go out alone."<p>

"You...were busy." Blake managed, holding the bullet wound at his side and wincing.

She groaned in frustration as she moved towards the treatment area of the cave, "Sod that. You could have waited until after I dropped my parents at the airport. But no, of course not."

"The girl...would have...gotten hurt." His strained voice seethed through gritted teeth as she hauled his arm over the operating table, his leg following, until they were able to get him on it completely, "Couldn't... risk it."

She turned away to tie her hair up and pull on plastic gloves. Taking the tools she needed, she extracted the bullet from the kevlar armour, and noted it was buried deep enough to create severe bruising. Unlatching the suit's ties at his waist, she lifted off the front and let it drop off the other side of the table. She grabbed a pair of scissors and cut his vest underneath, careful not to put pressure on the wound. Peeling back the sweaty but bloodless material, she inspected the bruise: slight discolouration and no dark center meant there weren't any signs of internal bleeding. She sighed in relief as she began wrapping white gauze around his middle.

Finished, she snapped her gloves off, refusing to meet his eyes, "Was this," she gestured to his heavy form, "Worth it?"

"If he could do it alone, so can I." Blake mumbled, looking at his clenched fists.

Her head whirled round, "What did you say?" Pressing the wound gently, so as not to cause bleeding, she grabbed his collar and pulled him towards her, their faces an inch away from each other. She spoke in hushed tones, her eyes square on his, "You are not him, Blake. He was a different man. He is dead. You have to live. You will not make me watch what happened to him happen to you."

There was a brief pause as they realised how close they were to each other. Unwittingly, Blake glanced down at her lips, but remembering himself, looked back up again. Nelya's eyes widened as she loosened her hold of him a little.

"Nelya, I..." Blake began.

A low rumble and faint clicking cut him off. They both shifted their stare at the former part of the cave, eyebrows rising as the disused elevator came creaking down. It stopped when it reached the floor, its doors sliding open. Standing in the middle of the compartment was a small boy, his face hidden by large, black-rimmed glasses. He stepped forward and with awestruck eyes, gazed around the place, "Sweet."

* * *

><p>The two very confused adults looked at each other, surprise evident on both their faces, "The hell are you?" Blake demanded as Nelya turned and gingerly stepped towards the boy.<p>

"I should ask you the same question. Since you're the ones under _my_ house." He pushed up his glasses and crossed his skinny arms. By this point, he had just noticed Nelya approcahing him. Peering up at her for a moment, a glazed look passed across his face, his mouth hanging open slightly, "You're...you're really pretty..." The boy mumbled, blushing a deep red.

Nelya smiled, "Thank you very much."

"What?" Blake breathed from where he still sat, watching in disbelief the scene that was playong out before him. Nelya rolled her eyes as she crouched in front of the boy, "Ignore him. Can I ask how you got here?"

He nodded frantically, still staring intently at her.

"So..." Nelya pushed, gesturing with her hands to elaborate.

"Oh." He snapped to attention, "I was playing on the piano upstairs and it did something and the shelf opened and I went through and it was like an elevator and I went down-"

"Kid!" Blake shouted, now on his feet and shuffling towards them, "We get it. Thanks."

There was a moment of silence as Nelya and the boy watched Blake tried, albeit awkwardly, to get up the steps to join them without causing too much pain. Biting back a laugh, Nelya took his arm and helped him up.

The boy wasn't as restrained as her as he burst into a fit of giggles, "You're so old!"

At this, Nelya snorted and let loose a guffaw, pitching forward and holding her stomach.

"Yeah, yeah," Blake scowled at them, "Make fun of the only injured guy here. Not like I was gonna die or anything."

Settling down, the boy surveyed where he was, "Where is 'here', anyway?"

They stopped short, glancing uneasily at each other. "What do you think?" Nelya asked.

"Me?" The boy pointed at himself, blinking as if he had never been asked that question, "It must be a secret hideout." He walked past them, making a bee-line to the Tumbler, "I mean, what place is underground and has all these gadgety things and not a secret base."

"Hey!" Blake called, "Don't touch that! What's you're name?"

"Tim. Tim Drake."

* * *

><p>"Well, Tim, you're going to have to leave."<p>

"But I just got here!"

"And you thought you were going to stay?"

"Well yeah." He crossed his arms in defence.

"Give me one good reason."

Tim's eyes darted between the waiting two, trying to come up with something. A small, but defiant, smile spread across his face, "If you don't _let_ me stay, I'll tell _everyone _about this place."

Taking a sidelong glance at Blake, Nelya raised her eyebrows, grinning, "Tell me you didn't see that coming."

Blake groaned and made his best effort to stalk away. Tim turned to Nelya, who held out her hand, and they high-fived each other, whooping in triumph.


	2. Chapter 2

**Every time I upload a chapter I seem to always have to apologise about something. Sorry for the incredibly late update****! Enjoy!**

* * *

><p>"You live in Wayne Manor?" Tim nodded, fiddling with the hook of a grappling gun in his tiny hands. Knowing what this meant the adults kept quiet, watching the shrinking face behind his glasses.<p>

"It's okay," the boy said, "You can ask if you want."

Nelya shifted closer to him, crouching to his level, "We won't ask if you don't want to say." She reassured.

At this he shook his head, brow suddenly furrowed, "My mum passed away a couple of years ago, but I had to be put into care because my dad wasn't the best guy in the world."

Both Nelya and Blake winced: growing up with two loving parents, she couldn't even imagine what it would feel like to lose one and being forced to put up with abuse from the other. Blake felt similarly, the only difference was that he knew in situations like this kid's, losing parents who he knew loved him seemed better than experiencing being unloved from someone meant to protect and care for you.

She ruffled his hair, "What say we lighten the mood and see if we can find you a job to do here?"

"And work out a schedule if you're going to be a regular." Blake inputted.

The suggestion made Tim's eyes brightened, a grin and glance at them dissolved his previous frown, "Really?'

"Really?" Nelya repeated, equally as excited.

"Yeah, yeah..." Blake rubbed the back of his head, "But right now, you gotta go up. Don't want anybody missing you."

Tim shrugged, jumping off the table they sat on, "Meh," he sighed, "No one really misses me."

Nelya pouted, "What do you mean?"

Tim looked down, "I'm not the most popular person with anyone up there, even some of the teachers and carers ignore me."

"Well that's just not cool." She frowned, crossing her arms.

He shrugged again, "I don't like them much anyway."

She nodded, "Good. They don't deserve your love."

Blake sighed, "Okay, squirt. I think you should head up now, get some sleep..." He yawned extravagantly.

She took Tim by the shoulder and led him to the lift, "What Blake is trying to say," She rolled her eyes at the man in question, "Is that we all need some rest. We'll let you know when you can come down soon, kay?"

He held up his little finger, "Promise?"

"I promise." She agreed, curling her own little finger around his, sealing the deal.

* * *

><p>When Tim had left, the two remaining were silent for the better part of five minutes. Finally, Blake piped up, not being able to stand the quiet anymore, "We need to talk."<p>

She looked up at him from where she tapped and clicked on the super-computer; she still didn't turn all of her attention to him, though, despite how serious he was. Her face was unusually open, in spite of being seemingly distracted; clearly, she had been thinking the same thing. Instead, she replied with, "What about?"

He ran a hand across his cheek, letting his frustration be shown, and quickly hobbled over to her, holding his side, "Don't give me bull, Nel. You know what about."

"I don't think what I want to talk about is what you want to talk about." Her stiff, incredibly English, upper-lip was put into play. That and her natural stubbornness always meant that he was always the first one to surrender.

But not this time.

He was annoyed. Annoyed at her. At himself. At getting shot after the massive dive that happened today. It didn't feel like they were even friends anymore. There was something else there that he realised they both couldn't place. Before, he had passed it off as feeling the burden of being the Batman; having thought on it during confused late nights, it started to feel like something different. "I know what you want to say to me and that can wait. This," he motioned between the two of them, "this can't."

She remained silent. He tried not to pull his hair out. "We've been at each other since before your parents came to visit, and I don't think I completely know why." He held up his hand when she did try to answer, knowing what she was going to argue, "It's not our normal bickering either. These are full on fights we're having over the smallest thing one of us does."

He expected a witty retort or a snide remark but she didn't breathe a word.

"Are you going to say anything or am I gonna have to do all the talking for once?" He huffed, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts.

"What if, 'for once', I don't want to do much talking." She said it like a statement rather than a question he could answer.

"You said it yourself, you have dragged me through hell and high water. So you owe me as much."

Inhaling sharply through her nose, she released her breath and clenched jaw, "Do you remember, previous to getting kidnapped, we were being held at my apartment and Nathair said...some things?"

He nodded slowly, affirming what she was saying.

"They were true. At least the basics of what he meant were."

He stared at her hardened eyes and pressed lips. It were her reddening cheeks that gave away what she was explaining to him. Someone would think motion didn't seem to register in his mind from the way he was standing. Nelya rolled her eyes and slapped him, not entirely gently, across the cheek.

He gulped, still dazed, "Wow."

"Listen, if you're going to make fun of me-"

Instead, he kissed her.


	3. Chapter 3

It was a chaste kiss, but a kiss nonetheless.

Wide-eyed, Nelya watched him pull back fractionally, keeping a steady gaze on each other. A mixture of uncertainty and surprise was evident on her face and Blake began to regret his spurred decision. He opened his mouth to apologise but it was his turn to get cut off. She tenderly brushed her lips against his own, and, lingering there, she pressed more firmly against him, the hand resting on his chest tightening its grip on his shirt.

They didn't progress to anything more, instead, they both moved away from each other again slightly and blushed. It seemed neither wanted to meat the other's eyes, not completely confident with what they would show.

The computer beeped and they glanced at it. An office block was being kept hostage at gunpoint, those reponsible and the amount of hostages were unknown.

Silence ensued as Nelya went to suit up, taking this evening's problem into her own hands. Blake held back, unsure of what to do after the moment they had just shared, absentmindedly scrolling through the police report that had come up.

"I'm coming with you." He finally said.

"You can barely walk." She mumbled, busying herself with tying her boots on.

"I'll stay in the car as lookout."

Before she put on her mask Blake saw the corner of her mouth kick up, "Fine."

* * *

><p>The smaller, sleeker 'Batmobile', as Nelya liked to call it, was parked a couple of metres away from the office block, its headlights turned down. All thoughts of their personal lives were put on hold for the moment. Blake sat in the passenger's seat, pouring over the police reports again. The only news was that one hostage was sent out tied up, a bag over her head with a red face resembling a cat painted over it. A note on red paper had been stapled to her shirt with the same clumsy cat drawing and a message in cursive writing: 'Why so serious?'<p>

* * *

><p>Running to the back of the building, she checked behind the barbed wired fence before jumping over it, propelling herself through the courtyard to take cover in the shadows. By now she had realised how desperate the situation was but tried to not let it get to her. Spying a door a couple of meters away, she crept up to it and jiggled the handle.<p>

It opened.

Too easy.

It was far too easy.

* * *

><p><em>And for my final trick...<em>

_I'm going to make you all..._

_Disappear..._

_One..._

_'Click'_

_Two..._

_'Click'_

_Three._

_Bye bye_

_:)_

* * *

><p>Only seconds passed before she leapt away from the building, looking up just in time to see the top floor burst into flames, large blocks of broken concrete raining down.<p>

Watching the debris fall from the fire above and equally hot inferno boiled inside her, spurring her to the door hanging open and up the flight of stairs. It was dark save for the faint red glow outside the windows but what was the most disturbing of all of this was the silence. She couldn't hear anything; there were no shouts, no cries, nothing. She dearly hoped the hostages were just unconscious. When she reached the top floor, there was only one person stranding amidst the rubble.

The figure was facing away from her in a burnt, purple coat, the sides covered in scorch marks. They had straggly white hair, greenish in hue, their head bent down.

"My, my." They said, the ominously cheery sound was coupled with a deeper, grating noise, "You weren't who I was waiting to see."

They turned around, "No matter, we'll have a party anyway!" A wide, bloody grin stretched their face and a series of cackles was let loose.

The Joker.


	4. Chapter 4

He couldn't be here.

The Joker was the only person that was supposed to be locked in Arkham Asylum, and last she checked, nobody could crack the security on the mental prison.

That didn't necessarily mean she wasn't excited about meeting him. Not that she'd ever admit it.

She raised a hand and waggled her fingers, "Hello."

"Well, you're not nearly as grim as I thought." He remarked, seeming disappointed, "We haven't met but I would like to introduce myself," He held out his but let out an exaggerated whistle when she didn't take it, "Almost as stingy as dear Batsy, though." He mumbled, pushing his bottom lip into his top.

Ignoring him, she looked around, "I'm going to ask the obvious: Where are the hostages?"

He blew through a hole he formed with his lips, "That's the thing. There are none."

"What about the woman outside?"

"Paid."

"Are you going to tell me why you blew up the building?"

"Why does it feel like we're catching up over coffee?" He paused and glanced at the floor, "And why am I not bleeding yet?"

Beneath her mask she arched a brow, "You didn't answer my question."

"What's the point?" He exclaimed, "You're still going to take me away to the humble building where I have made my home amongst the delusional and psychopathic." His head dropped in mock defeat.

"You _want_ to get caught?" She asked, uncertainty tainting her voice.

"Yes, my moral compass has been tainted by this atrocious act. Take me away, oh, take me away." The last part was drawn out, maliciously morphing from magnified desperation to something slower and more sardonic.

"I'm not bringing you back to Arkham, am I?"

"'Afraid not. Well," he spread his hands, "not unless your little 'Bat' wants to not get killed."

Her eyes widened and she lunged for him, grabbing the front of his burnt shirt and pulling him towards her and standing nose to nose , "Explain."

"Wasting time wastes opportunity." The smirk beneath the cracking make-up cakes on his face infuriated her, "It's me, or him. Oh my, this feels like déjà vu. Of course, I wasn't one of the options."

Her laugh was empty, "He can take care of himself."

"Are you completely sure about that?" The question dripped with bogus care.

It was then that she realised the extent of Blake's injury. He could barely walk let alone fight off whatever the Joker had planned. No, surely the car was secure enough to not let anyone in.

"See," he continued, "the thing is is that what's going to happen to him cannot be stopped by himself. And to be honest, you're the only one that knows he's where he is."

She grabbed a fistful of his greasy hair and pulled him to the ground, the hand clamped on his shirt pressing into his throat, "What did you do?"

"I understand how strange this may sound but I didn't do anything to him."

"You're lying."

"I may be a diagnosed psychopath but it hurts when you say such words."

Time was running out, "Then who?" She snarled. From far off the sound of rotating helicopter propellers could be heard, perhaps a news one. Nelya wasn't so sure.

"Now, was I supposed to tell who..." He trailed off into thought.

She considered his words for a moment, "Hired. Someone hired you too."

"The truth dawns!" He cackled, "Believe me I would have lived to have had a first crack at Bat.2 but to do that I had get out of the loony bin first. My short-lived 'employers' had just what I needed too. Had to do this first, but at least I met you." He glanced up, "And there's my ride."

She hadn't even noticed that the helicopter was heading straight towards them, the noise and wind increasing. Nelya looked back down at the Joker, completely at a loss of what to do.

"Tick tock, tick tock! You have seven minutes left to sav him or, you can take me in. Which will it be?"

She pushed her fist down farther, "You forgot one more thing."

"Pray, tell."

Inching closer, she whispered, "The difference between the Batman and I is that I am a killer and I don't care whether you die or not." She yanked him up with her and used him as a shield against what she assumed were armed gunmen in the helicopter, shuffling towards the door, keeping a firm hand on his neck.

Clumsily, they made their way down the steps, her making sure that it was the Joker that faced every window they passed.

"We have something in common."

"No, we don't." She heard the helicopter circling the building, trying to find a good place to land.

"I think you'll find we do. In a particularly 'killer' way." He sniggered.

"You kill because you _want_ to, I've killed because I _had_ to. They got to the bottom and she shoved him through the open door. When he took a breath to give answer, Nelya hit him over the back of the head, knocking him out.

Dragging him into the shadows, she left him beneath a dust in before sneaking to where the car was parked, "Quite a disappointing meeting, Joker, quite disappointing."

She stopped in her tracks. She was right, it was too disappointing. And like many things that were easy, something ugly was always round the corner. Lo and behold, when she glanced back at where she left the Joker, nobody was there.

Tampering down her rising panic, she calculated that she had four minutes left, whatever that meant. The car was just ahead of her, soon reaching it and touching the sleek panel to open it. As it slid open, the image of Blake simply got worse and worse.

He lay paralysed, his head lolling back and face clammy. The veins of his temple stood out deep purple, his wrists and neck were to the same effect too. Nelya dropped to her knees and immediately inspected his gunshot bruising. Sure enough, a small hole, the width of the the tip of a needle, was burrowed into his flesh, the purple wound becoming darker with the small rivulets of blood dripping from it. Clenching her jaw, she touched it lightly and felt something hard under the skin.

Clearly impossible to remove at such a precarious time and place, Nelya slumped on her calves, defeated. She could have stopped it, but she didn't. It happened again. She was too late. And why like this, she asked herself, why?

"It isn't too late."


	5. Chapter 5

**Am I in trouble for another stupidly late update? Yes? I understand.**

* * *

><p>Nelya spun around using her body to shield Blake from the person was behind her. Her eyebrows seemed to raise of their own accord when her eyes fell on a small, red-headed girl, "You're..."<p>

"The girl our mutual friend was following today?" She indicated at his body with her chin, "Yeah."

Nelya blinked, "It's usually me asking the questions, but how did you find us?"

She looked down and shrugged, "I don't know. I just did."

Letting the odd answer pass, Nelya realising the state Blake was in and how fast time was running out, "You said I still had time. Time to do what?"

The girl nodded, "When he was shot, the bullet had a needle implanted in its centre. Once it came into contact with his body, it injected a serum into his bloodstream and stayed there."

"So there's an antidote."

"No, there isn't. He needs transfusion, sort of."

"'_Sort of_'? What do you mean '_sort of_'?" Staying calm was becoming a problem.

The girl jumped at her raised voice and lowered her head again, her hair shielding her face, "The only way to save him is by bringing him to the place where he was shot. The Joker lied about the time frame; your friend has two hours before his body is taken over by the serum."

By now, Nelya was too far gone to care about this girl's feelings. She had the answers and she knew it was a trap so there wasn't much room for sympathies, "Can he be saved?"

"Yes, but-"

"It's a trap."

She nodded.

Nelya let out a sharp breath through her nose, "I've been in worse."

The girl's eyes widened at her, and, pretending not to see it, Nelya busied herself with gently pushing Blake nearer the middle of the two car seats, "Get in."

* * *

><p>Her driving was crazy and the look in her eyes matched it perfectly.<p>

If she accelerated anymore the pedal would break through the floor. Nelya gripped the steering wheel, her sharp, but somehow controlled turns to the café cutting the time it would have taken down by half. She glanced at Blake's body situated between them and quickly back to the road. The veins on his neck were visibly growing and his breaths were getting shorter.

At last, she turned into the road that led on to where the café was, quickly parked and was out, hauling Blake from the car. She drapped a heavy arm around her neck and dragged him along to the entrance, eyeing the door when she got there.

"Wait!" The girl called, rushing up to her, "You need me to get in." She brought a card out and slipped it into one of the alabaster statue's mouths. It sucked it up and after a few seconds something beeped and the door slid open.

Nelya glanced at her, "Thanks..." She began but soon remembered that they had never exchanged names.

"Vera. Vera Yan." She offered.

"I'm-"

"No!" Vera cut her off, "The people in there don't know who you are yet. So it's best to not mention your name."

A faint light glowed at the end of the dark hallway, presumably a room filled with these 'people' Vera was talking about. Hoisting Blake up higher on her shoulders to get a better grip on his body, she turned again to her companion, "Thanks for your help, I guess I should save his butt again."

"Don't thank me yet." She mumbled, "When you both get out alright, then you can say it."

Nelya nodded and entered the building, the door, along with the light from the street lampost, sliding closed. As she dragged Blake through, the sound of music got louder and louder. If she wasn't mistaken, it was slow Blues. She followed a sharp right and found the source of the light, a dim lamp hanging just above an ornate oak door, smoke slowly spilling from the gap in the threshold. Seeing no means of entry, she gently placed Blake on the floor beside her and rapped sharply on the wood.

The music immediately stopped and she felt a sence of hush descend on her. Suddenly, the door swung open, a woman with high cheekbones and coiffured black hair dressed in a fitted tux came into view holding a cigarette to her lips, "Yes?" She drawled.

A sigh escaped her. Why couldn't she be able to have things her way? For once she wished she didn't have to deal with these sorts of situations. Instead, she had to go through the long hard way, and at this moment it started with an unsuccessful performance from this lady trying too hard to be intimidating.

Trying to keep herself from rolling her eyes at the sorry show, she straightened, "My friend got shot by one of your guns when he was trying to sneak into this fine establishment. It seemed alright when I first took a look at it but I have been recently told that he has been poisoned and the only place to get him cured is here. May I come in?"

The woman, who had now stood bolt upright at Nelya's bluntness, nodded and stepped to the side. She obviously hadn't been told to expect something like that.

She precariously draped Blake's arm back over her shoulders and lifted him, taking them both through and into the room ahead.

* * *

><p>Heat.<p>

That was all he could feel. A fire raged through his veins, travelling across from his stomach, encircling his arms, neck and head before going back the way it came. He couldn't remember what his body felt like before it became as limp and clammy as this. The strangest part of all, he realised for the few moments he could ignore the pain, was that he was vonscious of what was mostly going on around him. His vision had failed him but he could hear and feel everything around him. A sense of comfort grew in his mind when he realised Nelya was still there. He had to thank her when he got out of this. Again.

So far as he could tell, he was being taken into another part of the cafe, if it should be called that anymore, and soon felt himself being hauled onto a flat metallic surface. Then a gruff voice spoke up, "And you are?"

"We aren't here to talk about me, we're here because you broke him." Nelya retorted.

"He was tresspassing."

"On land guilty of producing illegal weapons and harboring drugs."

"Your evidence?"

"I'm standing on it."

There was a pause.

"You look like the type to make deals; we save your boyfriend and you don't let anyone know about my business."

Nelya scoffed, "That's an incredibly mild deal. With the amount of muscle you're hiding around here and, you know, us being in a weapon's factory, what just came out of your mouth is exceptionally unrealistic."

The voice laughed, "Not just a pretty face, eh?"

"Yes, yes, I'm flattered. What do you really want?"

"Rumour has it you're not who you say you are," Blake made out faint footsteps climbing down stone stairs, "An assassin? I had a hard time believing that. So, here's what I want. There's this guy that I want you to kill for me. Simpke, right? Do that and I'll save Bat-Junior here."

For a frightening minute, Nelya said nothing. Then he heard her take a breath, "So long as you don't tell him anything, I'll go."

Something must have happened because the sound of a whirring machine right by his head started up. He felt he was being strapped to the metal but was unable to fight back, even when two pin pricks in both his arms brought a surge of pain through his body. Before he began to fit, he lost what little consciousness he had managed to keep thus far.


	6. Chapter 6

When he woke the next morning, she was gone.

* * *

><p>After throwing on some fresh clothes, Blake stormed out of his apartment, where Nelya must have dropped him after whatever happened last night, and headed straight to her place. He slammed his car door closed and started the ignition, flooring the accelerator and heading off. The pain had stopped completely and, surprisingly, he noticed how energised he was; enough to run a marathon ten times over.<p>

But he wasn't happy with it. It would be a lie to say that he was annoyed with her for not being there when he woke up. What he was angry about was her telling whoever it was last night that she didn't want him to know what she was going to do. They were in this together, right? Hadn't the kiss meant anything to her? He prepared himself for the worst as he parked a street off and hurried up the stairs.

He knocked four times and waited but when there was no answer he tried the doorknob. Strangely, it opened and he entered slowly, "Nel?" He called.

"Didn't you see the note?" Came an exasperated reply.

She sat at her kitchen table, a mug of hot chocolate sitting in front of her, accompanied by a set of blueprints, not at all bothering to look up from them.

"You left a note?" He took the seat opposite her.

"On your bedside table."

The corner of his mouth kicked up, "Yeah, I saw it. 'Meet me at the cave'? Good one."

A lift of her small shoulder, "Worth a try."

"I heard everything from yesterday."

"He said you might." She finally met his eyes. As expected, she was unreadable.

"You really didn't think you would go without me? Not even a little bit?" He gestured 'little' with his fore-finger and thumb.

She let out a dejected laugh and sat forward in her chair, mug in hand, pressing it against her forehead and sighed, "The moment you were shot, the guy, who the Joker happened to owe a favour to, thought he could get to me to do his dirty work."

Blake blinked, "Wait. So this man staged a fake kidnapping, blew up the top of a building, hired the Joker and had that girl follow you so that you could kill someone for him?"

"If you think that's dramatic, you should have seen the clothes he was wearing."

"Has he ever heard of a phone book?" He incredulously asked.

"Apparently, he didn't actually know I was or how to reach me. The only lead he had was through you."

"But the Joker? Why break him out of Arkham for just that?"

"They're both mysteries." She finally concluded.

There was a moment of quiet before Blake decided to pipe up, "So, where are we going?"

"You realise he's sending me there to kill someone, right?" Emphasising her point, she gestured between them with her mug, "And you, Mr 'I'm-going-to-take-over-Batman's-mantle-or-die-trying', want to come with me? I sense a confliction of morality."

"Says the girl who vowed to never kill a soul but still ended up doing it."

"Touché." She conceded.

"And I ask again, where are we going?"

A full minute passed as she studied him, jutting her lip out when she concluded that there was no convincing him to do otherwise. Clearly, this was one person she couldn't have her way with all the time; but some part of her realised that she liked it.

Turning the map over, she pointed directly at where the target was, "Russia, ."

"At least it's extra cold this time of year." He commented, looking over the snowy caps in, essentially, the middle if nowhere. Then a thought came to him, "You're not really going to kill him, are you?"

"Of course not. I'm going to threaten whoever he is into playing dead which gives me enough time to put my 'employer' away for good." She stated matter-of-factly.

Blake scratched his chin, "And you still don't know who this 'employer' is?"

"I think I'm happy with him not knowing who _I _am than me knowing who he is. Anyway, a little investigation won't hurt anyone."

"Seems like you have everything worked out, when do we leave?"

* * *

><p>The weapons producer had already brought up the money to fund for only <em>her<em> private flight to Moscow and subsequent travel to the Russian Sakhalin Island but after much deliberation, with Vera acting as messenger, he coughed up the funds for Blake too.

A large part of the deal was for Nelya to remain anonymous throughout. As for her partner, though the criminals knew his face, after Blake quit from his role as detective his public record was declared private and even with the resources the group had, they would never be able to find his identity.

But while she was packing, she began to think. Despite her being a thinker born and bred these particular thoughts had almost steered her away from carrying this whole scheme out. She was well into her three month Christmas break at university and wondered if she's be back in time. Her job was at the same place too.

Blake had recently set up a private investigating business with special 'techniques' that may happen to include some bat-like characteristics but how long could he go for until things started to get a bit tight? She pursed her lips and looked down at her mask. No, she would have to go through with it. They wouldn't have had to make the deal if Blake hadn't needed the transfusion but the thing was that he did need it. And if that meant going halfway across the world to make sure they wouldn't go after them then so be it.

* * *

><p>They had to meet early the next morning at the group's aircraft facility not too far from the west end of Gotham, Nelya in her mask and Blake with sunglasses and a wide scarf covering most of his face. They were led onto a jet that would drop them in Moscow on more than a ten hour flight. After that, they had to travel by the Trans-Siberian Railway across East Russia and then take a ferry to the island.<p>

Simple.


	7. Chapter 7

It turned out to be only them and the pilot boarding the plane, Blake thankfully realised. When they boarded, he locked their light bags of provisions and clothes in the over-head lockers and sat down opposite her, looking about the lavish cabin. "People really do have money," he remarked.

Nelya took in the leather seats, varnished floors and fully stocked bar, "They really do."

They remained quiet for the better part of an hour and it wasn't until they were well in the air that Blake looked over at her. She was dressed in black, as usual, but had since removed her mask and taken her hair out of its ponytail, the dark waves falling effortlessly over a shoulder, seemingly looking out the window. He knew better, "Penny for your thoughts?"

Turning her head away from the pink clouds, she met his eyes. As it was still fairly dark when they took off, the sun was only now peaking up, the rich colours only enhancing her already striking features. Even her pupils seemed more hazel than brown, the sight making his heart beat hard against his chest.

"Just running over the plan."

His brow creased, "Again?"

She passed a hand over her face and released a breath through her nose, "The train's bugging me."

"Why? We get on, we get off, take the ferry and we're there."

_Shaking_ her head, she rested her elbows on her knees, "That part's fine. It's the way back that I'm worried about." The map they had taken with them was spread out on the coffee table in front of them. She indicated toward the island, "There's a ferry that leaves at 2 o'clock in the morning after we get the job done. It'll take us back to the mainland but the train that we have to catch back to Moscow isn't leaving here," she pointed at the port, "But here." Her finger moved quite a distance west, too far to go by foot in even the best of conditions.

"What do they expect us to do, freeze our asses off?" He seethed.

"Apparently a truck is supposed to take us there but I can't understand why they didn't book a later ticket when the train would actually stop at the docks."

"All this dough and they're still cheapskates."

Murmuring what sounded like an agreement, she rolled up the map and put it to one side, pausing then saying, "We should get some sleep, the time change will kill us otherwise."

* * *

><p>Not entirely sure he felt tired enough to drift off, Blake went over to the bar and got himself a beer and a packet of salted peanuts. He sat there for quite some time, his absent-minded stare out the window evidence of how deep in thought he was. So deep, in fact, that he didn't notice Nelya sitting next to him until she began to speak, "What are you brooding about now?"<p>

He turned to her and scoffed, "Brooding? So not my style."

She nudged him gently with her shoulder, "Tell me."

'"You know what." He said, resting his bottle on the table and looking directly at her, "We haven't talked about _us _since before we, um, kissed."

Blushing, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and bit the inside of her cheek, "I've been meaning to talk about it too. I just couldn't...bring up the courage."

"When have you ever lacked courage?"

Sighing, she fiddled with the bowl of peanuts, "I've never had a romantic relationship. It's entirely new to me and the prospect of an 'us', if it were to happen, throws me. I'm excited and nervous and agitated and flattered all at the same time but I don't know how to respond to that."

Looking down at his bottle, he contemplated the words he had silently listened to and said, "But you do want to have one."

A moment passed before she nodded and it was only then that he realised how tightly he was gripping his seat. Reaching up, he cupped her jaw and pulled her towards him, pressing their foreheads together, "Just...just let me know when you're ready."

"Thank you." She smiled, hugging him, "Thank you so much."

* * *

><p>They spent the rest of the flight occupying themselves with their own thing; Nelya drifting off to sleep now and then, and Blake scrolling through the films that were available in the cabin. He made a few sly glances in her direction but didn't pursue them, leaving her to her own thoughts. Which meant the only company he had was himself.<p>

At this point, he began to realise just how crowded his mind was, not properly thinking about himself and his life since before he became the Batman. When Bruce Wayne passed over the mantle to him, he rushed at the opportunity with little regard for any consequences that may arise. And apart for his feelings towards Nelya, the only other thing he wanted to think about was how he hadn't been the best form of vigilante justice in the world. He shirked his self-appointed duties, that was for sure, but Nel, she needed him; he was pushing himself up the ranks a tad but they depended on each other.

* * *

><p>Nelya couldn't believe she had been reduced to pretending to sleep. He was getting closer and closer and she couldn't decide if she wanted to push him away or hold on to him and never let go. The latter was becoming increasingly attractive and whenever she envisioned herself with him butterflies flew through her. But she knew what happened when she got too involved; her mother moved away <em>for a reason<em>, they were family so danger came as part of the package. Blake was not; it was her that sought him out, and with her came mountains of emotional baggage that she would not give him. What disgusted her the most, though, was how she couldn't even give him the only thing he wanted, her. She wasn't too pleased with her regard of self-importance, either.


	8. Chapter 8

**Pretty long chapter! Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>After the plane landed in Moscow, they were given their train tickets and sent off to the station within the hour.<p>

The train that would take them across ths Trans-Siberian Railway over the next eight days was incredible; luxurious even in the lower class cabins. For some reason, they were put in first class, surprising Nelya. When they took their seats opposite each other after putting away their bags, however, they soon grew agitated, now very fed up with sitting down.

Changing stops twice by the sixth day on the way to the station where they would catch the ferry to the island, the dining car opened for breakfast on the seventh day and the two thankfully got up to get some food, which, upon closer inspection at the start of their journey, was not as lavish as the interior of the train. Picking bits and pieces of cheese, bread and fruit, they made their way back. But something wasn't right.

Because just like before all of the little... _situations_ they ever came across, it was far too quiet. Apart from a handful of people, the car was empty, and nobody was touching the trays of food laid out for them, the growing tension unmistakable.

"Now?" Blake whispered subtly into her ear, "Can't they wait until after we've eaten?"

"Whoever 'they' are." She muttered, eyeing a well-dressed woman approaching them from the left. He pulled her close to him, his arm around her waist.

She looked up at him in question, to which he answered, "If we keep together, they might not suspect who we are, just yet."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Definitely."

Despite the roll of her eyes, she didn't push him away, focusing her attention on the other passengers. They screamed 'suspicious' yet they did nothing until ten minutes of glances to and fro had passed.

"Miss Clyne?" The woman behind them said.

Letting out a breath of relief, she answered, "Yes?"

"We take it you're here to assassinate our leader." Her accent was heavy, but it wasn't a Russian one.

"That's what I was told to do."

"But you won't."

"No, I won't."

Next to her, Blake had to make a concerted effort to suppress a grin at Nelya's 'alpha wolf' showing. It was what she was, he thought, why hide it? The woman blinked but maintained her composure, "Come with me." She said, turning and walking to the end of the car, opening the door there to another. Cautiously, they followed. Inside sat a truck, large enough to fit them all in, a driver already in his seat.

"Get in."

"May I ask why?"

"She knew you were coming."

"Don't they all? But you haven't answered my question."

"Everything will become clear when we get there."

"Cryptic," she turned to Blake, who nodded, and then back to the woman, "Let's go."

* * *

><p>Blake assumed they would get off the train once it stopped at the next station, but apparently they were leaving <em>now,<em> driving-off-the-train-now. They had just had time to buckle up before the truck began to reverse, turning right abruptly and shooting out the car and onto the frosty plain of grass by the tracks, landing unceremoniously before speeding off south-east.

As usual, these kidnapping situations weren't much for conversation. For an hour and a half awkward glances passed between the seven of them, he and Nelya keeping their hands close together, the sun setting just outside the window.

But soon, they came up to an empty ferry port, devoid of any sign of life apart from heavily armoured vehicles on either side of a wooden dock where a dark boat floated on calm waters.

The ride took twenty minutes, but just as they were nearing land, flames erupted in the sky, crashing down on the island.

"No..." The woman said, watching the ground burn as it was hit with wave after wave of fire. She rushed to the head of the boat and took the controls, speeding up the boat to dock, jumping out as it swung to a stop and running up a path and into a patch of trees.

Momentarily frozen, Nelya came to her senses and followed suit, Blake on her heels. They found a trapdoor in the brush and went down the steps into a weave of catacombs. They would never have made it through if not for the sobs they heard ahead of them.

Soon, they were met with an antechamber, the doors at the back were wide open, leading into a large bedroom. The weeping had stopped but hushed conversation had replaced it. Slowly, Nelya entered the room as Blake remained at the threshold, taking in the high ceiling and the luxurious tapestries and silks lining the walls and hanging from the ceiling. A candle lit chandelier illuminated the four poster bed on the right side of the room and behind the iridescent curtain hanging from it, she could make out a figure.

"The island, it's under attack," the woman whispered urgently, "We can get you out, it'll be fine."

"No," came the weak reply, "You must go. I will be a burden."

Nelya's heart dropped. That voice.

"How can you think that? We can't leave-"

"That is an order." They cut off.

She circled round the bed to see for herself. Unsure of what she was praying for; her assumptions to be right or wrong. As it happens, they were right.

"Acacia?" She whispered.

The young woman lying on the bed propped up by large pillows was visibly fragile, her complexion pallid and cheeks hollow. But nobody could mistake the resemblance between them. The same chocolaty almond eyes and straight nose, the only difference being her hair was slightly lighter.

"Wh- How...?" She stuttered for words as she slowly crept nearer, still unbelieving.

A tear dripped down Acacia's cheek, "Nelya." She smiled, but it wasn't a happy one.

"I saw you die." Her voice shook, "Zirnitra, he killed you."

Acacia gave the woman to her left a glance and nodded, bidding her leave. When she was out of sight, Nelya came to her side, ignoring her sister's open hand, "He staged everything. He wanted to see who would come out on top. Me, or you." Another tear, "He told me you had died too. And I believed him. But I was a fool to stay with him."

"Why did you?"

"He said it wasn't him who wanted Mum, but Ra's. That he was the saviour of the League. Then, I saw you last year. With him." She indicated behind Nelya at Blake, who had come into the room quietly.

"You're, you're the assassin that fought me. The one in the mask." He said.

"That was when I saw you." She said to her sister, "You freed us both."

"You said nothing." The two of were crying now, silently, yet with a sadness such young people should never experience. A sadness all three of them knew all too well.

"I believed you were doing well without the knowledge that I was alive. You found somebody. I didn't want to take that away from you." There was a rumble from above, clashes of metal. Whoever was attacking was getting close.

"And now, we're falling. The great League reduced to hiding in a damp cave underground. A weapons manufacturer after my head and sent my big sister for it." She laughed without humour and it grew into a dry coughing fit, "I'm dying, Nelya. Cancer, my lungs are shot."

Nelya knelt and placed her hand on Acacia's shoulder, "Nan had cancer."

"I have Dad's genes to thank, then."

"He and Mum never got over what happened."

"I should have gone to them. I should have let you all know." She placed her hand on Nelya's arm, "And here we are. Fate's a bitch, innit?"

She chuckled, "You joker."

There were cries in the distance, getting closer by the second.

"You need to go." Acacia urged.

"What about you?"

"I saw you, Nelya, that's enough. I love you, kay?"

A harsh sob ripped through Nelya, "I love you too..."

"Now go, they'll never get the satisfaction of killing me." This, she directed at Blake, who understood straight away, taking Nelya by the waist gently and pulling her up.

"What are you doing?" She cried, struggling against his grip, "Blake!"

"Nel, don't. We need to leave." He answered, arms wrapped around hers and lifting her away, getting out the door.

"No! Acacia! Blake, let me go, or I swear I'll-"

"Do what?" He put her down but didn't let her go, "We know there is no saving her and you staying is not going to change that."

"She's my baby sister." She crumbled in on herself.

"I know." He hugged her, "All we can do now is fend these guys off until...you know."

Nelya took a deep breath, wiping her face and stepping back, "Lets do this."

* * *

><p>They met the woman who had brought them here, whose name was Lana, again. She told them about the weapons manufacturer being the one behind the attack. The League hadn't been able to pay off their debt they owed him. Now he wanted a more personal type of payment.<p>

Lana went back into the bedroom, locking it from the inside as Blake and Nelya went up to meet the intruders. This was one fight she would happily take part in.


	9. Chapter 9

**After an incessantly busy few months, finally, a chapter! It's a bit too short so I should have the next one up soon. I'm super sorry!**

* * *

><p>Nelya didn't think she'd fought this hard before.<p>

When they entered the fray, it was clear the assassins were outnumbered, even with the addition of her and Blake. The two took in the scene: guns against swords, armour against fists.

They glanced at each other.

Each gave a shaky smile, but their eyes said something else entirely.

Nelya leapt head-first at an armoured man, knocking the wind out of him and leaving him splayed on the floor. She moved onto her next target and Blake headed for the automatic guns, taking out their handlers and pulling them over to a heap in a corner. He saw flashes of dark hair and an even darker grin here and there. Shouts of pain followed her as she bounded and jumped and twisted over flailing limbs and sloppy punches.

Blake was, however, soon distracted by a fairly large man towering over him. The giant raised his fists and swung them at him. Blake swiftly dodged them and weaved behind him, just able to reach around his neck and pull him backwards.

The giant stumbled but didn't fall and Blake managed to kick the tip of his toe into the backs of his opponent's knees. At this, he hit the ground. Blake hit him hard on the back of his head with connected fists, knocking him out, cold.

Looking up, he found himself staring across the hall at a gun pointed straight at him. But before the gunman had time to pull the trigger, a steel shield came sailing through the air, pounding him in the face. After the gunman collapsed, Blake followed the direction the shield was thrown from.

"You're welcome!" Called Nelya, waving.

A woman crept up behind her, hand stretched out. Nelya grabbed it from behind her and pulled her easily over her shoulder. The woman fell to the floor with one swoop, laying on the floor, unconscious.

That was when Blake made his way over to Nelya; cutting, dodging and fighting through the battle. They came up back to back when he reached her, "I never actually thanked you."

She scoffed. "You didn't have to. It was all over your face."

A couple of fighters ran at full speed towards them. Without so much as giving each other a thought, Nelya and Blake ducked. The fighters, not noticing this change in time, carried on running. They crashed into each other with a crude 'crack', knocking themselves out.

Nelya guffawed and ran ahead into the diminishing crowd of thugs. The assassins turning their attention to treating the injured and hauling the dead some place else. Together with some ten assassins, the duo took out the remaining thugs.

By the time the hall was cleared of the unconscious and lifeless bodies, so too was the short-lived leader of the new league carried out to be buried with other leaders if the organisation.

She watched the body leave the chamber, following it closely with her eyes, until it turned the corner, never to be seen again. Nelya didn't touch her, refused to see her uncovered face. When all but one had left, she collapsed of exhaustion to the floor.

"Let's get out of here." Blake told her.

Without so much as a glance back at the cave, they left. The duo didn't exchange any words with the few remaining assassins guarding the speedboats docked on the beach when they clambered onto one and left.

"Our stuff's still on the train." She said.

"And the train's long gone." He replied. "At best we can find a place to stay, scrounge about, maybe."

"The truck we came in should still be where we left it." She sighed, raking her hands through her hair.

He nodded and sped up.

They spent the last ten minutes of the boat ride in silence, too spent to think, more so to talk. Nelya, though she was too stubborn to show it, was still mourning her little sister. Blake, as usual, was worried about her. He couldn't care less about getting home at this point, they were in a similar position when they had to travel back from France after Zirnitra had them kidnapped and they managed fine.

Blake glanced at her.

Something in his heart tugged. A feeling that was becoming all too familiar.

Nelya sniffed and swallowed against the growing lump in her throat. Now she understood why Acacia's death was so unreal. She understood why she was angry with herself that she didn't try to find her body after she was killed. Everything was falling into place while everything fell apart. Only she knew the truth.

Nelya glanced at him.

Only _they _knew the truth. And how glad she felt that he did. No, more than 'glad'. How _did_ she feel? Happy when with him, lonely when not. Strongly. Gratefully. A feeling that kept growing until, she was sure, it would burst very soon.

* * *

><p>Safely arriving at the coast of the mainland, it wasn't long until they found the truck. Nelya found a couple of bags of supplies hidden in the floor at the back. Clean, warm clothes, dried and canned food, blankets, and, most importantly, money.<p>

While she drove, Blake opened a packet of dried fruit, passing pieces over to her occasionally. Then, just by their luck, the weather took a turn for the worst.

Thick sleet descended upon them unmercifully. The thin cloth roof flapping in the wind. Letting loose a variety of colourful language, Nelya focused on keeping the truck marginally on the road.

It was of little use.

They toppled over. The vehicle, unable to stop itself, tumbled down the incline of the high road they were travelling on. The cage set around the top of the truck kept its passengers from being crushed, but couldn't manage to keep them from falling out of it altogether.

"No..." Nelya cried, shielding herself from the harsh snow rushing over them.


	10. Chapter 10

**Told you I'd update soon! Warning: If you don't like reading mild romance expressed physically, I suggest you skip the middle section of this chapter. It's not crude or explicit but, hey. I think I might change the rating too. Can never be too careful.**

* * *

><p>White.<p>

The pain was white. The cold was white. Her mind was white.

Nelya opened her eyes and saw nothing. A white nothing.

She felt her fingers twitch. She felt alive, at least.

No, not at least. Blake.

Gritting her teeth, she made herself move. Whichever way didn't matter, so long as she did something. Get up. Get up. _Get up_. The snow covering her face fell away and she saw the grey sky.

"Blake." She croaked, slowly moving her frozen bones into a sitting position.

Looking about, her vision began to blur, mixing the cold horizon with the unforgiving sky. How much time had passed since they crashed? Minutes? Hours?

"Blake..." Louder, this time.

Nelya stood, scanning the area. She began to panic. No reply. No movement. She stumbled across the expanse of icy ground. A couple of metres away was the overturned truck, their recently acquired supplies strewn all over the place. He must be there.

In her hurry, however, she tripped over deadweight, landing next to it.

"Please, no." She whispered.

It was him, lying on his stomach and buried in the snow.

"Blake!" Nelya repeated over and over, turning him over. His cheeks were pallid, very little colour to them, his lips cracked and almost blue. She checked his pulse and began rubbing his chest just over his heart frantically. "Not like this." She muttered. "We've been through too much. It can't end like this!"

He shuddered violently and she removed the jacket she had put on to wrap around him, keeping to rubbing heat into his chest. Laying him once more on the ground, she started to resuscitate him, pushing with all her strength.

With another shudder, he opened his eyes and sat up quickly, drawing a deep breath before choking on a series of body-wracking coughs.

He fell back against her. "You know," he said hoarsely, "you were _this _close to coming out with a touching, heartfelt speech about how great I was and how much you'd remember me."

Too tired to reply, she simply let her head drop to rest against his, breathing out a relieved, slightly hysterical, laugh.

* * *

><p>They wasted no time in gathering their wits and what they could save from the wreck. Albeit slowly, they climbed back up the hill they fell from and shuffled with growing aches in stiff bodies along the road.<p>

Finally, they found shelter a mile away in the form of an abandoned shack. Hidden by trees that thickened as they walked further, it was sturdy and dry and right now, a lifesaver.

Not even needing to break in, they entered and soon enough, a fire was built.

"We need to get out of these clothes." She mumbled. "Or else they'll become damp when the ice melts."

"And change into what?" He asked from where he lay stacks of bundled hay and some of the rolled up blankets.

She paused. The clothes they had put on most of the clothes they had on the truck and now they were soaked through after the crash. "We can wrap the blankets around us." Nelya suggested.

Blake eyed a couple of blankets left and conceded. "No peaking." He teased, picking one up and moving to a corner by the fire. She did the same but on the other side of the room.

When he looked up at her, he saw something he wished he hadn't, "Nel...Are those scars?"

She followed his line of sight to her shoulder and she nodded, but biting her lip, her face crumbled in on itself and a tear made its way down the side of her face. He rushed to her, holding her shoulders and pulling her to him, "Who?"

"Zirnitra," was all she sniffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

"I've never seen..."

"A little make-up does wonders." She chuckled dryly.

Eyeing one particular scar, long and dark from years of healing, that disappeared below the edge of the blanket. Catching him, she sighed and pulled it down a little, showing it all to him, "How?" he asked.

"Fighting, fighting and more fighting." She pressed her face against his chest, "I'm sick of it."

He sighed. They were both tired of this underground war, but he understood Nelya's feelings as being far greater than his own. She was born into this war, shaped by it.

"It's over now. It's over." Blake whispered, tilting her chin up to look into her eyes. "No more tears."

She swallowed, and tiptoed slightly, angling her lips to hover just under his. "No...more...tears."

They kissed. A kiss they had never dreamed they would share. Blake lifted her, keeping sure her blanket stayed wrapped about her body. Moving backwards, he found the layers of sheets and pillows they had made earlier, and carefully sat upon it.

Nelya, who straddled him, broke the kiss. "Blake, I'm not, that is, I don't..."

The corner of his mouth kicked up, "_The_ Nelya Clyne, speechless? I don't believe it."

"You're not making this any easier."

He softened but soon grew fixed on her, "Seriously, Nel, if you want me to stop at any time, you just have to tell me. I don't want your first time to be another bad memory to add to that massive list of yours."

Looking up at him, she bit at her lip, "You want the truth?"

A nod.

"This is more nerve-wracking than any of the times we were kidnapped put together." She admitted, hoping he would understand.

He chuckled and she relaxed slightly at the sound, his chest rumbling beneath her, "I don't blame you." He blushed, "I was so nervous my first time I broke three condoms just trying to put them on." He trailed a hand up her arm and shook his head, suddenly confused, "Did I really just say that?"

Her laugh brought tears to her eyes and wiping them away, she looked up to find him staring intensely at her. A toothy grin spread on his face and he leaned in, centimeters away from her face, "You should laugh more often, you know."

"I do laugh." Came her retort.

His palms climbed from her waist to her shoulder blades, pulling her in closer, "Not like that. Before it seemed you kept stopping yourself, as if you had something to lose if you did." The thick blanket wrapped around her was still not enough to keep her from feeling the heat rolling off his body.

"I don't have anything to lose now." She mumbled, their closeness reflected in the red of her cheeks.

"Then let me in." He whispered, holding her slim torso to his, their lips just within reach of each other. Letting go of the lip she hadn't realised she was still biting, she leant into him, hesitantly giving him the kiss he had patiently waited for. Just as they touched, he captured her lower lip and tilted his head slightly to deepen the kiss, suddenly wanting more.

All previous embarrassment ebbed away as her fingers found his neck and she cupped his jaw, showing her need by pressing her chest into his and not realising that her blanket had fallen about her waist. When their skin found each other, she jumped but refused to break their kiss, instead reveling in the sensation and hugging him even closer. A growl emanated from the back of his throat, a sound, she realised, she quite enjoyed.

Hands moved of their own accord, tangling in each others hair and passing over more and more expanses of skin. Both their covers were flung aside and they grew heady under the other's gaze, exploring what once had remained unseen. He sprinkled kisses down her body, relaxing her and allowing him to take charge. Ministrations continued until neither could hold back anymore and he lifted her, shifting their position so that he hovered above her. There was a determined glint in her eyes that had grown so familiar to him and he responded with a grin.

She wasn't going to lie, it hurt. When she had previously thought about it, she was sure that it wouldn't be as bad as the physical pain she experienced during her life. Somehow, though, Blake made it better. Using the traditional phrase, they made love, slowly drawing out every aspect of it, taking their time crossing the blissful line ahead of them. And when they did cross it, she cried out his name, Robin, and he had never felt happier.

Gathering her into his lap, he drew the blankets over them both and sat beaming stupidly as he rubbed gentle circles into her thigh, "You said my name."

"Mmm..." She sighed, nuzzling the crook of his neck.

"You never call me that."

Nelya lazily straightened and propped herself up against his shoulders, "Want me to?" She mumbled.

He thought for a moment, "If you did, I'd always remember tonight and that would be pretty compromising."

She blushed, "So?"

"So," he repeated, "to keep my dignity intact, could you only say my name when we're alone?"

"Alone?" She leaned in, "Or_ alone_ alone?"

Closing the distance, he caught her lower lip between his own and murmured, "Guess."

With a contented sigh, she whispered, "You shouldn't have told me that incredibly incriminating piece of information. Oh yes," she cut in when he opened his mouth to protest, "And I _will _use it."

"Remind me never to piss you off. _Ever_."

"A lesson well learnt, then."


	11. Chapter 11

**I have to say, being on hiatus sucks... Even so, I'm _kinda_ back (but not so much at the same time). I won't update as regularly as I used to but I will try to at least get **_**something**_** up. Nelya and Blake are most definitely a thing, but it won't be easy for either of them. (Huehuehuehuehue) **

**Between the last chapter and this one, there's a rather large timeskip, you guys will see how long in a moment. Essentially, ****_a_**** reason I haven't updated in SUCH a long time (how did it come to that) is because it was difficult getting exactly what I wanted down to properly show how Nelya and Blake's relationship develops from Chapter 10 onwards. Having said that, I'm pretty confident on where I'm going to take it now so hopefully, this story won't be completely finished so soon.**

**And just to give you a heads up, I'm currently planning two companion pieces to When Knight Falls, too. One is a bunch of drabbles that span across Dark Knight's Legacy and When Knight Falls, filling in the gaps, so to speak. The other is a multi-chaptered fic surrounding Bruce and Selina's lives after the end of Dark Knight Rises and the course their relationship takes.**

**I do hope you enjoy everything that's coming up!**

**Stay cool.**

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><p>It would take them, unbelievably, a month and a half to get back to Gotham. Following that night, when everything had somehow both fallen down and built up around them again, Nelya and Blake managed to get to a small farming village, the last of many, its name a mystery to them at the time, and seek help.<p>

At first, the inhabitants of the place were suspicious of their new arrivals, but after finding the couple looking more than bedraggled, tired, and desperate, some authority figures stood forward and attempted to establish contact. In spite of her reservations on the subject of communication, Nelya soon found English was a language spoken here. Despite its limits, in their situation, Blake and Nelya were more than grateful at the presence of something familiar.

Directed to an old telephone in the middle of an even older post-office, they called the only person they knew and trusted enough to sort things out. One Commissioner Jim Gordon.

After chastising the two foolish youths for their less than legal machinations and waking him up at three o'clock on a Sunday morning, he agreed to have them out of Russia as soon as he could. Their passports were, however, lost to them. At this, Gordon grumbled some more before taking down the number of the telephone they contacted him on and hung up.

Thus began the duo's three week stay at what they soon discovered was called Ubezhishchem Zimnyaya, Winter's Refuge in English. They had no money, no other clothes, and hardly any peace of mind. It would take them a while to reach the conclusion that nobody, whoever they may be, were after them anymore, fearing the fate of the village should they be found. They took strength that they had each other, even if neither could boost the other's much needed morale.

To keep from boredom and earn their keep as uninvited, though not unwelcome, guests, work was probably the only thing they could resort to. While Nelya sowed row after row of vegetable crop and wove baskets upon baskets from the wheat grass grown in the hills to the north of the village, Blake shorn sheep, sheep, and more sheep, alternating between that and helping with pressing animal muck and earth together to make compost. It wasn't back breaking or entirely unpleasant, which was the least they could do for the hospitality the villagers provided them with. Particularly the small Tsyrinsky family who allowed them to stay in their cottage, which was only slightly larger than the others about town.

Due to the village's size, however, news spread of these visitors in less than a night, attracting quite a bit of attention to the two, particularly the 'mysterious' Blake in the eyes of many a young girl seeking excitement only a handsome new man could bring to their quaint village. Unknowing of how Nelya would react, Blake didn't mention a particular incident in their second week there regarding the clergyman's daughter surprising him early one morning in the barn he was shoveling clean hay in. After she tried to kiss him, in spite of his hands raised defensively (which he honestly thought sent a clear enough message), the girl, Galina, soon understood what he was trying to tell her and left in a huff.

Nelya, being Nelya, soon found out and couldn't hold back her laughter, kissing him square on the mouth and punching his arm lightly, letting Blake know that he, well and truly, was being ridiculous.

Every evening after work, they would walk back to the Tsyrinsky's cottage together, their little fingers linked, for an eagerly awaited dinner. The delicious and simple meals they shared with the family were the highlights of the day, the language barriers seemingly non-existant. Blake found how much Nelya and Gavril, the father of the family, had in common. Though they had strikingly different backgrounds, their personalities and way of speech were incredibly similar. Witty and hardy, they took to each other like fish to water, Nelya soon affectionately calling him Uncle Gav and the latter treating her like the niece he never had. Blake would find that he had taken a shine to Isidora, Gavril's Serbian and very bubbly wife, and Matvey, their serious and quiet ten-year-old son.

In the short time they came to know each other, Blake found the family he didn't realise he needed. He had always wanted a family, _of course_ he wanted a family, but as they years went on and he found independence after leaving the orphanage behind him for good, a family no longer seemed a necessity for him. On one evening, while he helped clear the table, he had looked over at Nelya explaining, with dramatic hand-gestures and animated face, an old Scottish story her father used to tell her to a wide-eyed and entranced Caterina, the Tsyrinky's five-year-old daughter, a picture of her mother but not dissimilar to her father's gung-ho attitude to life. He saw in Nelya a door opening to another life, a life like the one they were living here, except one to call their own. He hoped high and low that this new relationship with her lasted, that it wasn't simply a fleeting occurance brought about by a desperate need for company during an equally desperate time. He had shaken these doubts from his head and became adamant that he would take each day as it was and if there was more, well, he'd know it when they got there.

It wouldn't be until the week after that these dinners would be cut short when they would get a call from Gordon telling them to get ready for pick up in a few days to take them to the United States Embassy that would eventually bring them back home. Surprisingly, Nelya and Blake both felt their hearts sink at the news. The three weeks they had spent at Ubezhishchem Zimnyaya had come to an end far too quickly. It had become a place where their past didn't matter, a place to, in manner of speaking, reinvent themselves. That, for a small time, at least, Nelya and Blake had a chance to live in the _now_. There was no helm to take up, a city to protect, a legend to fight for, and a name to live under. They were just, and happily so, Nelya and Blake.

They needed to get back to Gotham, though. As, for as much as they wanted to stay, they belonged in Gotham, and they would always have to go back to it.

Saying their goodbyes and expressing their gratitude, though Nelya and Blake couldn't quite show enough, they left what they truly felt _was_ their home away from home. Caterina, as they packed their meagre belongings, gave them a little handmade necklace each: red, tightly woven grass beads on a woolen string. The gesture touched them both and they promised to keep in contact. Though, Nelya and Blake knew, it wouldn't be the same.

As the truck that picked them up drove away from the village, they waved back at it till it disappeared over the horizon, another chapter in their life visibly closing.

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><p>Staying at the embassy for the next week and a half was not so pleasant.<p>

Ages was spent running to and from their modest room to offices around the building back in Moscow proving their identities and waiting for their reprinted passports to be checked and examined till they were blue in the face.

Their charge, a Mr Webster, amicable as he was, bored them to tears. Droning conversations about their lives in Gotham stretched on for hours, particularly on the part of Nelya, who didn't have the policing records Blake did for his time in the GCPD and as a private investigator.

They had eventually gotten what they needed and proven that they were who they said they were, packed their bags yet again, and, unlike that of Ubezhishchem Zimnyaya, were glad to be leaving.

Back to Gotham they went.


End file.
